


This isn't Hell?

by thesherlockianwhjustcant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Alternate Universe- Parallel Universe, Amnesia, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Lots of confusion, M/M, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Slow Build, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:40:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5607136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesherlockianwhjustcant/pseuds/thesherlockianwhjustcant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, apparently, raising someone from Hell is a lot harder than people say. So, it's no big surprise that Castiel's rescue of Dean Winchester has complications. Long story short, on his return trip, Castiel crosses into a parallel universe, and Dean gets trapped there... So much for his helping the angels in the war against Lucifer.<br/>---OR:<br/>Seasons 1-3 happened, Dean goes to Hell, but Cas fucks up when he brings him back, and he's stuck in a parallel universe with no supernatural creatures and a life he doesn't remember. Dean's left with no choice but to search for who brought him back from Hell and how to get back to the life he actually wants... at least, the one he thinks he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking up

“Good work today, Dean,” Alastair cooed as he locked him up for the night. Dean resisted the urge to punch him and clenched his jaw instead. “I have high hopes for you, Dean. High hopes.” He sneered at him and looked like he was going to say something else, but he was cut off. Suddenly, the walls around them started to shake and everything started to crumble. “Shoulda known they'd come for you sooner or later... Dammit.” Dean frowned as Alastair turned and ran off towards screaming down the hall. 

Then, there was a blinding white light and a glass-shattering  _ png _ -ing sound. Dean backed into his cell until he hit the wall. Blinded by the light, he couldn't see the person--or, rather, the  _ thing _ \--coming towards him, but he could feel it. He felt a presence next to him and a hand on his shoulder and then...

Then, he woke up. He gasped for air like it was the first breath he'd taken in a year. He looked around, trying to get a grip of his surroundings. He was in his car on the side of a dirt road, but he didn't know where he was or how he got there. He couldn't remember a damned thing. He remembered dying, and he remembered going to Hell, and then... Well, he didn't remember past that. Not yet anyway. He frowned and thought of the only thing he could do to get some answers. He started up his car and drove until he got to a crossroad. He pulled off to the side and got out. He walked around to his trunk, and there was nothing there. No secret compartment with guns and hex bags and dead man’s blood, nothing. Just a few empty beer cans and a spare tire. He frowned and closed the trunk.  _ Huh _ , he thought. He rummaged through his glove box and managed to find a little box. He put his ID in it, buried it in the middle of the crossroad, did the little summoning spell and waited. And waited. And waited. After fifteen minutes, he figured no one was coming and shook his head again.  _ What the hell is goin on? _

He got back in the Impala and fished around for his phone. He found a phone in his pocket, but it wasn’t the one he remembered. It wasn’t a flip phone, it was a nice touch screen, fancy phone. But, somehow he knew it was his. He unlocked it, and before he could call anyone, he stopped and stared at the background. It was a picture of him and a girl... He knew her. Cassie.  _ No way _ , he thought. No way that was Cassie. But it was. She had the same frizzy hair, the same beautiful skin, the same smile. And, yet... it wasn’t the same girl he fell in love with. This one in the picture, her hair was a little frizzier, her eyes a little darker, her face a little rounder. She was different, but the same. And, he looked different too. He had his arm around her, and they were laughing. He looked happy, his eyes sparkling and unburdened. He not only  _ looked  _ happy, he  _ was  _ happy. 

Frowning, even more confused than he already was, he clicked the contacts icon and scrolled through, looking for one and only one contact. When he found it, he pressed call and put the phone up to his ear. The phone rang and rang, but no one answered. The person on the voicemail was not who he expected. 

“Hello, you’ve reached Samantha Green. I’m sorry I can’t get to the phone right now, but if you could please leave a name, number, and a message and I’ll get back to you. Thank you and have a nice day.”

Dean hung up before the dial tone sounded.  _ Maybe I have him in here as an alias _ . He looked through his contacts again, searching for any of Sam’s aliases, but he had no luck. So, he decided to call the next best person. And, once again, the person on the other end was not who he expected.

“Singer’s Auto, how may I help you?”

“Ellen?” Dean realized that was the first word out of his mouth since he woke up. His voice was raspy, his throat dry. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Ellen? It’s me... Dean.”

“I know who you are Dean. Why are you calling?”

That was odd. Ellen sounded cold, impatient. She didn’t sound relieved--or surprised for that matter--that he was alive. He tried to answer her question. “Well, I, uh--” She cut him off.

“No.”

“What?”

“The answer is no. We are not going to come and pick up another one of your father’s messes. Not again.” She hung up. 

And now, Dean was even more confused. Dean’s father has been dead for two years,  _ why would Ellen think he’s alive? _ Shaking his head, Dean called the number again. 

“Stop calling, Dean,” Ellen didn’t waste time with hellos this time. 

“But, Ellen--”

“No, Dean! No! Your father is your problem. If you don’t want to deal with him, then don’t. But, don’t you dare expect me or Bobby or Jo to deal with him for you. That is  _ not _ going to happen ever again.”

“What about me, Ellen? Can you help _me_?”

Ellen paused before delivering her final blow. “Why would I? You’ve never helped me.” And, she hung up. 

Dean sat there stunned and thoroughly confused. It was obvious to him that this world he’s come back to is different. In a way, it reminded him of the Djinn world, but he could tell this isn’t the work of a Djinn. In the Djinn world, he was happy, his mom was alive, he had a girlfriend, there was no supernatural creatures fucking up his life, Sammy was happy. And, he could tell in the back of his mind that it was too good to be true. He knew it was the work of a Djinn. But, this world... it was different. He could tell it was real. He could tell it wasn’t a Djinn. So, what was it, then? How the hell did he get here? Where the hell was he? And how the hell does he get back?

He leaned against the steering wheel and took a deep breath. He needed to find Sam. He needed to figure out where he was, and they needed to solve this together. So, Dean sat up straight and looked around at his surroundings. He recognized the area somehow, so he decided to just start driving, trusting his instincts would tell him where to turn. 

About fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of a small house. He cut the engine and got out slowly.  _ This is mine _ . He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. He walked up to the front door and knocked. He rolled his eyes at himself and thought,  _ if this is my house, why do I have to knock? _  So, he opened the door and walked in, right as Cassie turned the corner. Her face lit up with a beautiful smile when she saw him. “Oh, hey, Dean. I thought you had to work late tonight.”

Dean blinked a few times, trying to get control of his shock. He looked over at the clock on the wall and said, “It’s 9:30...” His voice was still raspy, but not as bad. 

She laughed. “Yeah, but usually, late for you is like two in the morning.” She shook her head and walked up to him to give him a light peck on the cheek. “But, I’ll take what I can get.” She smiled at him again, and he managed to smile back. “I made some chicken, and there’s leftovers from what you made the other night too. Do you want me to heat something up for you?” 

Dean slowly shook his head. “Uh, no, I’m okay. I’m just going to go to bed... I had a long day.” 

Cassie frowned slightly and said, “Okay, whatever you want. I have some work to finish up, so I’ll probably be up for another hour or so.” She gave him a sweet, gentle kiss on the mouth before saying, “Goodnight, Dean.”

He managed a goodnight and went upstairs. Again, his instincts led him to his bedroom. He walked in and looked around, trying to figure out who he was. The walls and dressers were scattered with pictures. There was one of him and Cassie graduating high school. One of him and John playing baseball together when he was about ten. One of him, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and Dad when he was about sixteen. There were a few more of him and Cassie over the years. No wedding photos,  _ thank god, for that _ , he thought. As he made his trip around the room, he found one of him and Cassie graduating college.  _ I went to college? _ He shook his head and laughed at himself. 

He made a final turn around the room and found a mantle with an electric fireplace. This house might have been small, but it was  _ nice _ . He and Cassie must make decent money. The mantle held two pictures and two urns. One of them was of his mother, Mary. Her ashes in a beautiful urn in front of the picture. The urn was engraved with her name. The other picture was of a baby. Dean frowned and stepped closer to the picture and urn. His gut twisted as he recognized who it was.  _ No, no, no, nonononono _ . The urn was engraved with Sam’s nickname, Sammy. Tears welled up in Dean’s eyes, and he made another turn around the room, searching for Sam’s picture. The one of him as a baby was the only one Dean found. He collapsed on the bed. Sam was dead. He was gone. In this world, there was no Sam Winchester. 

_ No _ . This was definitely not the work of a Djinn. This was something else entirely, and he needed to figure out what.  _ But, where do I start? _

The answer came to him quickly:  _ I have to figure out who sprung me from Hell. _

Well, how hard could that be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just an fyi: the major character Death warning is only for Sam. I don't want ya'll to go through this fic thinking somebody else is gonna die b/c I don't do that, and I feel like you guys should just know now, that Dean, Cas, Bobby, Jo, Ellen, etc, I'm not planning on having them die, ok? So, yeah. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed, and thanks for reading!!


	2. First Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I'm going to alternate between Dean and Cas each chapter, so hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Falling was never fun. It hurt. A lot. But, getting up after a fall? That was nearly impossible.

His eyes flashed open, he gasped for breath as if it was his first ever. He sat up and looked around as he regained control of his breathing. He was sat in the middle of a circle of dead trees. He frowned. Where was he? _Who_ was he? He couldn’t remember anything. He tried to stand up, but his legs gave out on him, and he fell back down.

“Are you all right?” A woman yelled out to him. He turned to look at her. She was standing at the top of the hill leading down to him. “Aren’t you cold?”

He frowned again and looked down at himself. He was completely naked... He shivered as a particularly harsh gust of wind blew against him.

The woman started scrambling her way down the hill to meet him. She stopped a few feet away and squatted down so that she could rummage through her backpack. “I always carry a towel in case of emergencies,” she said. “Ah, here it is.” She produced a blue towel from her bag and handed it to him. He took the towel as he stood up and wrapped it around his waist. He continued to frown. _Why would a stranger care if I was okay?_ “I’m Hannah,” she said with a smile.

He smiled back--or at least he _tried_ to. He wasn’t sure if it was a good smile or not because it felt odd on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, to say thank you, but no words came out, his throat too dry for him to actually speak.

Hannah gave him a slightly pitying look before saying, “I don’t live too far from here... If you’d like, I can give you some water and some clothes... Maybe a shower too?”

He was confused again as to why this person cared, but he couldn’t resist the offer to go somewhere warm, so he nodded.

She smiled again before turning to head off in the direction of her house, motioning for the man to follow. “So, what’s your name?” She asked.

He tried to speak again, this time clearing his throat before trying to say _I don’t remember_. But, all he managed was, “I...” It came out raspy, and he coughed. Hannah gave him another pitying look. She gave him a water bottle, and he took a few large gulps before trying to speak again. This time, it worked. “I don’t remember.” His voice still sounded raspy, but it was deep and gravelly now. He couldn’t help but feel that that was what his voice was supposed to sound like. It was odd, though, he wasn’t sure if it sounded right. He was so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed Hannah had stopped. He stopped too and turned to look at her.

“You really don’t remember your name?” She asked, her voice laced with worry. He shook his head. “Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

He frowned but nodded. “If you think that would be best.”

She nodded and continued walking. Within a few minutes, they reached her car in a small parking lot. She put her backpack in the backseat and then said, “Go ahead and get in the front.”

He did as he was told and got in the car. He buckled his seatbelt and waited for Hannah to join him. A few moments later, she got in the driver’s seat and started up the car. Then, they were off to the hospital. It only took a few minutes for them to get to the ER, but they passed in silence. He didn’t mind so much. He liked the quiet.

Once they got to the ER, they were approached by a nurse asking what the issue was and how serious. Hannah took the lead in answering the questions.

“What seems to be the problem this afternoon?”

“Um, I found him on the side of a hiking trail, and he looked hurt. He doesn’t remember who he is...”

The nurse nodded and wrote everything down. “Sir, can you tell me anything about yourself? Where you’re from, how many siblings you have, what your job is? Anything?”

He thought about that for a moment. He racked his brain for an answer to any of those questions, but he came up blank. He really couldn’t remember anything. He shook his head and said, “No.” He sounded sad and a little more than defeated.

The nurse raised an eyebrow at his response and continued with her notes. “Do you have an ID or any personal items on you?” As she said this, her eyes raked up and down his body, and her tone suggested that she knew it was a pointless question, seeing as how he was completely nude.

“No,” he said again.

The nurse nodded and finished writing everything down. Then, she refocused on Hannah. “Are you taking responsibility for him?” Hannah looked quickly at the man beside her before nodding. The nurse sighed. “Good. Because we can’t let him leave alone. He doesn’t seem to be in a right state of mind.” She sighed again. “All right, well, let’s get you back to a room, and we’ll get some fluids running through you, maybe something to eat. How’s that sound?”

His stomach grumbled in response. He nodded urgently. “Thank you.”

The nurse nodded her _you’re welcome_ and led them to a room in the back. The nurse handed him a gown and a fresh towel before saying, “Wipe yourself off with the towel before getting into bed. I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you if the doctor doesn’t beat me to it.” And, with that, she left them alone. Hannah turned her back as the man wiped himself off and changed into the gown, and once he was in bed, he told her it was fine to turn around.

She turned around sheepishly and sat down in the chair next to his bed. It was quiet for a few minutes, but it wasn’t like before. This time, it felt uncomfortable and awkward. He didn’t like it one bit. Thankfully, a woman in a white lab coat walked in, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Hi, my name is Dr. Jacobs, and I’ll be taking care of you this afternoon. So, it seems like we have a bit of amnesia on our hands,” she said as she consulted his chart. “I’m going to schedule you for an MRI to see what’s going on in your brain, see if there’s any abnormalities or anything. But, in the meantime, I’d like to just get you started on some fluids and get you some food. Other than the amnesia, how are you feeling?”

He frowned. “I don’t feel sick. I’m hungry, though.”

“Do you remember the last time you ate?”

“No. I do not remember anything before waking up today.”

“Okay, well, I’ll get the nurse in here to start you on those fluids.” And, she left.

The nurse came in almost immediately afterward to give him an IV. “Little poke,” she said as she plunged a needle into his arm. Once that was done, she left as quickly as she came, and it was silent once again. After a few minutes, though, he felt his eyes begin to droop as drowsiness swept over him. And, within minutes, he was asleep, and he dreamt of something very odd.

He was on a mission, a mission so dire that if he failed, he would suffer a terrible consequence. He had to rescue someone, someone important. He fought and killed just to get to where the subject was being held. But, it wasn’t enough, he still had to get to the prisoner’s cell. So, he continued to fight. He fought through a crowd of what seemed like thousands until he finally, _finally_ reached it. And, he stopped in his tracks. He was here to rescue a man, a man with most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen. He placed his hand on the man’s left shoulder. There was a blinding white light and an incessant _png_ -ing noise that jolted him awake. His eyes flashed open, and he sat upright in his bed, hyperventilating. That wasn’t a dream. It _wasn’t_. It didn’t feel like one.

It was a memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish ER visits were this fast in real life...


	3. ReSeArcHing iS FuN...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean hates research but what else is he supposed to do? Sleep? Pfffffftttttt, nope...

So, as it would turn out, finding out who sprung you from Hell was actually  _ a lot  _ easier said than done.  _ A lot _ . Dean stayed up all night researching and looking into lore, but a lot of what he turned up was bullshit. And, what wasn’t bullshit, he quickly eliminated. Like, one of the things he found devoured you and then spat you back out on Earth, naked. Since he woke up fully clothed, he was pretty sure that one wasn’t it. 

Cassie had come to bed around midnight grumbling about how her work-load was too much and how she had to get up at six. She kissed Dean goodnight and told him not to stay up too late. Then, she fell asleep.

He was still up when her alarm sounded in the morning, and that’s when he looked at the time and decided it was time for a break. 

Cassie rolled over and looked at him with tired eyes. She frowned. “Did you sleep at all?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Time flies.”

She chuckled. “Apparently. Thought you had a long day yesterday?”

“I did... But, I just got carried away, I guess...”

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What were you doing all night, anyway?”

He quickly closed his computer, put it on the nightstand, and sat up, turned away from her. “Nothing, really, just browsing the web.”

“And you got so into it, you didn’t sleep?” She asked disbelievingly. 

Dean dropped his head and closed his eyes. He bit his lip. He may not know  _ this _ Cassie that well, not really... But, he still hated to lie to her. “Yeah.”

She scoffed. “Whatever you say.” She got out of bed and stretched. “Well, I have work in an hour, so... Don’t  _ you _ have to go to work today?”

Dean’s head shot up.  _ Well, shit _ ... “Uh... No, my shifts got switched around. I have the day off.”  _ If you call a caffeine-fueled day of research a day off,  _ he thought. 

“Well, then, get some sleep,” she said as she went to the the bathroom to take a shower. He nodded and laid down as if he were going to follow her advice. He wasn’t planning to, not really. But, his eyes drooped anyway, and he fell into a deep sleep quickly.

He felt as if his insides were being ripped apart, like he was being torn in two. It was the worst pain he’d ever experienced, and he thought it’d never end. Then in the blink of an eye, the pain was gone, and he was back to normal. An unknown demon came over to him and took him back to his cell, where Alistair was waiting to offer him the deal. He offered the same deal every day, and every day, Dean turned him down. This time, though, he laid it into Dean, making his insides boil, making him fall to his knees before him in excruciating pain. And, he just wanted it to stop, he couldn't take it. He couldn't take the pain anymore. He wanted-- _ needed _ \--it to end. So he said, “I'll do it.” And the pain stopped. The next day, it was  _ he  _ who tore into someone else, who ripped and sliced and shredded every piece of each soul he was given. He hated it. He hated how good he was at it. He wished he was strong, he wished he could have taken what he was given, but he just... couldn't. Not this time. And, he hated himself for it. Each day, he got up and joined Alistair and the others like him, and every day, he tortured more and more souls. People who had raped and murdered, those he had a little bit of an easier time with, but... It was the people who were like him, who made a few bad decisions and ended up here, they were the ones he couldn't bare to torture. He wasn't sure how much longer he could do it. He couldn't keep doing this. It was wrong and--

“Dean?  _ Dean _ !” Cassie's worried voice woke Dean up. “Are you okay?” He wanted to ask why he wouldn't be when he realized he’d sweat through the sheets and was gripping them tightly.

He let the sheets go and sat up slowly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice raspy. “I'm fine, really.” Even  _ he _ didn’t believe his words.

She gave him a skeptical look and said, “Okay, well, I'm about to leave... Call me if you need anything.” Then, she walked over to him, gave him a small kiss on the cheek, and left the room.

Once he was alone, Dean released a shaky breath and shook his head. Before he had fallen asleep, he had only remembered flashes of hell, nothing of real importance, but now... Now, he remembered everything, and he wished he couldn't. He needed a drink more than he ever had, so he got up and decided to take his researching to a bar. He couldn’t do this sober. Not after  _ that _ dream. 

Once he was dressed and ready to go, Dean grabbed his keys and left the house. He got on to the main road and after a few minutes, he found his way to a bar. He walked in and shook his head.  _ I’m one of those guys now... _ The bar was nearly empty, save for a few people who were all probably there all night. Dean took a seat at the bar and waited for the bartender to come over to him. “Hi,” she said warmly. “What can I get ya?” 

“Whiskey, neat, thanks.” She nodded and went to get his drink for him. She returned not a minute later and placed his drink on the bar. He laid a ten on the bar and said, “Keep the change.” She nodded her thanks as Dean got up and moved to a table so he had more room for research. He sat down and set up his laptop and got to it. 

He sat there for hours, pouring over all the information he already had and searching everything he could think of, and he still came up blank. He sat back for a moment and downed his third whiskey in one go. Obviously, this was going to take some more thought... But, what else would lead him to the answer if he didn’t search ‘what can bring people back from hell?’ or something along those lines? Maybe he needed to just do some blanket research on hell and creatures that could at least get into and out of hell without dying or being a demon...  _ All right, now how do I phrase that so that the internet understands me? _

Dean sighed loudly, annoyed. _See, this is where Sam would come in and know exactly what to search for..._ That thought didn’t help him. All it did was make him want another drink, so he got one. He downed it like a shot and silently chastised himself. _Enough of that, let’s get back to work._ Deciding to just type “hell” into the search bar instead of bothering with rephrasing his earlier thoughts, he sat back and waited for the page to load. Finally it did, and he clicked on the first result--a Wikipedia page. He skimmed through the whole thing and found that it wasn’t really all that helpful, so he went back to the search engine... What now? He typed “coming back from hell” into the search bar on a whim, not really expecting much, and he was right not to because all that came up was crap. He sighed again and closed his eyes to think. What the hell could have done it? A demon? _Nah, a demon wouldn’t have dragged me back... no way._ Well then, what? What the fuck could have done it?

He sat back in his chair and groaned loudly.  _Why is this so fucking difficult?_

“Rough day?” A cute red-headed girl had walked over and sat across from him with a beer in her hand.

Dean frowned. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” He didn’t ask to be rude, he just wasn’t sure.

The girl gave a little laugh. “Ha, no. You just seem like you need to vent to someone. And, I thought  _ hey, why not _ ?” She gave him a smile. “You’re lucky I’ve already drank half of this, or I never would have walked over here.” She gestured to her beer and then took a sip of it.

Despite himself, Dean smiled. “I appreciate the gesture, don’t get me wrong, but trust me. You don’t want to hear about the shit I’ve been sifting through all day.”

She shrugged. “Try me.”

Dean huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “What’s your name, anyway?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Charlie,” she said, holding out her hand. 

Dean shook it, and said, “Dean.”

Charlie smiled and released his hand. “So, now that we have introductions, why don’t you tell me what you’re searching for? Maybe I can help. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s computers.”

“I’m not having an issue using my computer, I just... can’t find an answer to my question. I’m starting to think there isn’t one...”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “There’s always an answer. You just have to know where to look. What do you need to find?”

Dean regarded Charlie for a few moments. She seemed truly interested and willing to help. She also seemed eccentric enough that she wouldn’t laugh him off... “Let’s say I’m writing a book, okay?” She nodded. “And, my character goes to Hell, but someone or some _ thing _ brings him back. What could do it? And, don’t say demon.”

Charlie frowned. “Wasn’t even my second thought... is that seriously what you’re searching for?” Dean nodded, and she laughed.  _ Guess I was wrong about her not laughing... _ “Dude, the answer is right in front of you!” He frowned. “Angels. An angel could rescue him.”

Dean laughed a bitter laugh. He shook his head. “No, no. That doesn’t work.”

“Why not? That’s perfect for a story about a person being rescued from Hell.”

“Because my character is a bad guy... he’s done bad things in his life, he made some bad decisions. He deserved to be in Hell...” Dean trailed off, lost in his memories. Then, he shook himself out of it and shoved the memories aside. “Plus, angels aren’t real.”

“Neither are demons, dumbass.” Dean bit his tongue from contradicting her. He was about to say something else, but that was lost when she said, “Besides, that’s like the only thing I can think of that wouldn’t hurt your character after rescuing him. Unless your character is returned to earth all beat up or something?” Dean shook his head. “Yeah, an angel would just save him and return him to earth, no questions asked.” She shrugged. “So, there ya have it.”

Dean sat there, dumbfounded. Could it really... no. No, an angel wouldn’t rescue him. That was... that was impossible. He couldn’t be--this was insane. 

Forgetting Charlie was still sitting with him, Dean sat up and started researching all he could about angels. Turns out, they  _ can _ bring people back from Hell unscathed. But, why would an angel bring him back? Why would he bring him back to  _ this _ place and not the one he came from? Was this some kind of fucked up way of giving him a second chance?

“Holy shit,” he said, interrupting whatever Charlie had been talking about.

She looked at him and smirked. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m a genius?”

Dean had just met this girl--and he still wasn’t sure if he liked her--but he felt like he could trust her. He felt like she would be able to help him, and right now, in this world of people he knew (yet didn’t), he needed someone like her. He needed someone new. Someone he didn’t know. “I need your help,” he said. 

She raised her eyebrows. “Wait, really?”

“Yes. I need to tell you something, and it’s going to sound crazy--wait, no, it’ll sound more than crazy, but... I just need to tell someone.”

Her eyes softened. “Okay,” she said, sounding sobered up. “Shoot.”

Dean took a deep breath.  _ Should I really do this? _ “I’m not really writing a book.”  _ Really? That’s how we’re gonna start? _ “I, uh, died and went to Hell. And, now, well, now I’m back. But, I’m not in the same world that I left. It’s almost like a--”

“An alternate universe?” She finished for him.

“Exactly. I know certain people here that I knew from before, but it’s like they don’t know me, and my brother--” Dean broke off, his throat suddenly growing thick. “Look, I don’t know what happened to me, why I’m out, why I’m here and not where I’m supposed to be, but I need to figure it out. And, I can’t do it alone.”

Charlie gave him a long look, her eyes narrow and contemplative. “Are you being serious? I almost can’t tell.”

“What you think I’m joking?”

She shrugged. “I’ve had people pull shit on me for years, and this honestly sounds like you’re making it up, but...” she trailed off and frowned.

“But what?”

“But, your voice is sending a different message. You just seem... I don’t know.”

“Like I’ve been through hell?” Dean supplied. 

Charlie considered this. “Exactly... But, wait, wait, wait, if you went to hell, does that mean--”

Dean held up a hand to stop her question. “I don’t think so. This is a different world. As far as I can tell, there are no supernatural creatures here.”

“How can you tell?”

“I tried to summon a demon first thing I got back.”

“ _ What? _ Why?” She screamed at him.

“I thought they could tell me what the hell was going on, but no one showed up. And, that wouldn’t have happened unless there weren’t any demons around to hear the call.”

Charlie contemplated all this quietly. “Why exactly do you want  _ my _ help?”

Dean shook his head because he didn’t really know himself. “I don’t know you. And, I mean, I  _ really  _ don’t know you. I’ve never met you in this life or the other, and that’s what I need right now. I need someone who doesn’t know me so that we can actually figure this out without my being committed to a mental hospital.”

Charlie laughed at that. “Haha, okay. Well, your logic is a little, uh, strange, but I guess I get it.”

“So, you’ll help me?”

Charlie nodded curtly. “Yup. Where do we start?”

“Well, I say we start looking for the thing that brought me back, which you’re right was probably an angel even though I still highly doubt it... But if I’m here, they must be too, right?”

Charlie frowned. “Again, logic.” She laughed at Dean’s defensive expression. “But, sure, assuming this was an accident... yeah, if he crossed into this universe by accident, then you’re both trapped here. Especially if like you said, there’s no supernatural creatures here.”

Dean nodded. “There  _ weren’t _ any supernatural creatures here, but now there is. And, we’re gonna find him and we’re gonna kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! Hope you're enjoying this story! If you are, please let me know! I love to hear from my readers and know if you guys are enjoying the story!


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